The Imprint of Snow
by JaganshiKenshin
Summary: Christmas Eve would be a bad time to destroy Tokyo, so Kaitou Yuu drags Hiei out for a walk.


Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the Yuu Yuu Hakusho characters (they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not make any money from said characters.

What Kenshin **does** own, however, are all the original characters

in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be

met with the katana, or worse.

_Idiot Beloved_ takes place shortly after the Dark Tournament; _Firebird Sweet_ follows. As reference, I use a combination of the subtitled YYH anime, the American manga, plus some of the CD dramas.

Want to know why Hiei refers to Kaitou as a 'playmate?' Read _The Book of Cat With Moon._ Who are the Kawasaki sisters? _Maya's Tale_ has the answer.

_The Imprint of Snow_ takes place after the close of _Cat/Moon_ and revisits not only Yojigen Mansion, but Kaitou Yuu's second career as a popular novelist.

Title: The Imprint of Snow

Author: JaganshiKenshin

Genre: General

Rating: K+/PG-13

Summary: Christmas Eve would be a bad time to destroy Tokyo, so Kaitou Yuu drags Hiei out for a walk.

A/N: As always, thanks for reading this, and for your reviews!

An elusive snowflake heralds a message for Hiei.

The Imprint of Snow

by

Kenshin

Tokyo, Christmas Eve. Wanting to snow, but unable.

From Hiei's perch on the guard rail of the roof, the city lights were diamonds, rubies and emeralds, scattered on a velvet backdrop by an extravagant, unseen jeweler.

Pity if it should be wiped out.

A lone snowflake escaped its prison of lead-colored sky and zig-zagged down, gemlike in the reflected light. Hiei extended a hand to catch it, but a breeze snatched it away.

He was melancholy, and fearful, but not alone.

Behind him, Kaitou Yuu said, "C-come down from there. You're making me n-nervous."

Kaitou Yuu. He might by turns be shredded with nerves, possess a supercilious tongue of weapons-grade vitriol, and tumble into pettiness and self-pity. But he was also kind, generous, and given his utter lack of firepower, braver than he had any right to be. Hiei glanced over his shoulder.

Kaitou Yuu could have been any bookworm, except for his expensive cashmere coat. Thick eyeglasses. Esthetic features at odds with his blocky frame. Curling black hair that was cropped shorter these days, but still looking much as he had when Hiei first encountered him.

Hiei grumbled, "Stop acting like a mother hen."

"I have this aversion for rooftop scenes."

Hiei had a fear of his own, and he couldn't blab it to just anyone. Shayla Kidd? Hiei refused to burden her. As for the other soldiers in the Shadow Wars, Kuwabara and Urameshi were both pretty much still babies. Kurama was self-controlled intellect on a silver platter.

Urameshi would only laugh at Hiei, or try to punch out his lights. Of all people, Kuwabara might get the gravity of Hiei's dilemma-which was precisely why Hiei could not call on him.

Although Kaitou was part of the team, he seldom took part in combat. His Ability, Taboo, consisted of a defensive shield and a chosen word that could peel a person's soul right out of his body. Right now his breath plumed as though it was indeed his soul struggling to rise to the ice-bound sky. "What are we d-doing here anyway?"

"Taking the night air."

"Where? To Death Valley?"

"You're mixing up your geography."

"Naturally. My brain froze five minutes ago. If you need to solve a riddle, call Minamino."

Kaitou was right; no doubt Kurama would 'get it.' Might even be able to solve it. However, Kurama was still a comrade-in-arms and, despite superficial appearances, rawhide-tough. But when you fight alongside a friend, thorn and blade, you need to maintain a certain image.

This is not mere posturing, but deadly necessity. If your ally begins to wonder if you'll turn on him-

The breeze knifed by, stirring Hiei's mantle.

Unusual these days, for Hiei to wear this long, close-fitted coat hardy. For one thing, it was tight across the shoulders. For another, it had seen so much action, it had devolved to a rag, patched so often that the sleeves barely clung to the body.

Hiei wore it for remembrance.

"Why'd you phone me? Am I under arrest or something?"

"You'll only wish you were."

"I'm aging here by the second," said Kaitou. "Look. You can count the gray hairs."

"You count them. I hear you're good at math."

No way would Kaitou view Hiei as less than tough. Even if Hiei showed up in lipstick and a tutu, Kaitou would still respect the man who had saved his life three times.

It didn't stop there. Hiei respected Kaitou's courage. Kaitou respected Hiei's intellect. Hiei could do something outside the box without raising Kaitou's alarm bells.

_Well, here goes._ In a spirit of cooperation, and because even Hiei noted the wind's bitter teeth, he leapt down from the guard rail.

"Finally."

"You know about my father-Old Dragon."

Sidling toward the stairwell, Kaitou replied, "A little."

Old Dragon, Hiei explained, was merely what they had called him. No one knew his true name; Old Dragon had probably forgotten it himself.

He had borne a passing resemblance to Hiei: tough, sinewed build, similar black hair in spikes, white starburst on the forelock. Old Dragon's Jagan, however, was a natural feature, not an implant, and unlike Hiei's, was black lid to lid, and vertically situated.

Old Dragon was of royal blood, though he seemed to have spent his time kidnaping and poisoning rather than ruling whatever Makai kingdom to which he laid claim.

Kaitou shivered. "This better not turn into a soliloquy."

"I'll make it short. Dragon types eventually go crazy."

While pettishness and nerves battled with his better self, Kaitou groped for the doorknob. Then, mastering the impulses born of cold and impatience, he released the doorknob. With a startled breath, he stared at Hiei. "_Tainted Blood?_"

"Got it in one."

"Then let's take a walk."

This was Hiei's turn to be surprised; Kaitou hated the cold, and Hiei had expected an invitation to his apartment.

They proceeded down the stairs to the elevator. Kaitou pressed a button for the next floor and said, "So you think you'll pay a visit to Crazytown and destroy Tokyo."

"I can see it now on the nightly news: 'Unknown force trashes city, film at eleven.'"

"Are you really strong enough to do that?"

"Maybe. A district at a time."

"In that case I want to stop back home first."

The elevator let them out on Kaitou's floor, and they turned down the hall to the last door on the left.

Kaitou went in first, removing his shoes. Not intending to linger, Hiei stayed put in the genkan.

But he was in for a surprise.

The apartment was as it usually appeared, sleek, spotless, with black leather and chrome, a glass door overlooking the big park, and the addition of three new objects: a festive Christmas tree, and-

Kaitou's parents: Father blocky with a broad smiling face, Mother slender, sharing Kaitou's angular features.

This was hardly the first time Hiei had met them. He suspected Mother knew he was different. But she still treated him as Kaitou's playmate.

Both parents were unpacking, moving paper-wrapped items from cardboard boxes, setting them on the coffee table.

Curious.

But Hiei had long since learned the right things to say to ordinary citizens. "Excuse me for disturbing you."

"Not at all! Welcome, please." Mother, a bit flushed, and a bit breathless, nevertheless gave him a shrewd, narrow look, reminiscent of Kaitou.

Father chuckled. "Looks like you caught us out."

"I'll get my gear," Kaitou announced, but before he could make it down the hall Mother collared him, whispering, darting fierce glances at Hiei. Hiei studied his shoes.

Father continued unpacking, Mother bustled to the kitchen, and Kaitou reappeared, a thick muffler around his neck. As he passed the kitchen, Mother thrust a shopping bag into his hand.

After a round of 'Merry-Christmases,' Hiei and Kaitou left.

"Here." Kaitou gave Hiei the bag. "Extras, from a party. Mother insisted. She thinks you look-"

Hiei cast him a jaundiced glance. "What?"

"Ah, hungry."

He snorted in amusement. "You mean poverty-stricken."

They got in the elevator and Kaitou pressed the lobby button. "Your coat has seen better days."

Hiei glanced inside the bag. "I'll forgive you because these are tuna rolls." He took one. "Your mother is a genius."

"I get my brains from her."

One floor down, the elevator stopped to admit a kid of about seventeen in a puffy gray coat. He pressed the lobby button, nodded pleasantly at Kaitou, then looked at Hiei and slammed the button for the next floor.

Hiei asked, "What are they doing in your apartment?"

Kaitou chuckled. "They just got back from a party."

"Funny. Me, too."

"Then we all have that much in common. You rescued me from a boring editor-publisher bash."

"Mine was with producers and directors."

Kaitou said, in mock-dismay, "You left Shay-san alone with them?"

"Relax. They were eating oats out of her hand."

The elevator stopped. The kid shot out like a cork from a bottle. Hiei grunted. "Even civilians know I'm dangerous. And here I cleaned the bloodstains off this coat just last month. Why were your parents unpacking?"

"Mom's obsessive about putting stuff away."

"Using them as slave labor?"

"It's their stuff. I sold them my apartment."

The elevator descended. Hiei raised an eyebrow.

"I'm living there, too," Kaitou said. "Temporarily."

"Look who's talking about the condition of certain coats, when he has to move back in with Mommy and Daddy."

"To the contrary," said Kaitou, but then changed the subject to _Tainted Blood._

Hiei didn't like thinking about it, but he couldn't get it out of his head. A gruesome film, regrettably popular, more disgraceful at this time of year, and the theme song was hitting the charts:

_Sometimes I feel I gotta get my way_

_Gotta slay and slay, gotta make you pay_

_Can't get away from tainted blood!_

Idiot rhyme scheme. Simple backbeat, thumping bass. Stupid movie. But there was more to it.

As if the movie itself somehow knew who Hiei was, and was taunting him: 'See? Can't escape your destiny. You'll go mad, run amok, and nothing you can do will change it.'

The father in the movie had 'tainted blood' from a long-dead, murderous ancestor, had snapped, slain his family, then started in on the neighbors.

Hiei muttered, "Why did I ever see that stupid film?"

"Beats me. I had to. I'm still working part-time as film critic for _The Record._"

"Some producer dragged me," Hiei said.

They had reached the ground floor. In the lobby, a big silvery Christmas tree threw sparkles from its frosted ornaments and dripping tinsel. Hiei paused to admire the effect. At the darkest time of year, light in its midst.

They went out into the night's icy embrace. Though they could afford a cab, Hiei would not speak of his fears within earshot of a curious cabby. Besides, the streets were empty.

And then they weren't.

Down the block came an assault of off-key voices. A band of kids much like the one in the elevator, boys and girls huddling against the cold.

"They're _singing._" Hiei grimaced.

"It's not against the law."

"The way they sound, it should be." Blessed-or cursed-with absolute pitch, the ability to correctly identify any note without an outside reference, Hiei found each flat a hammer-blow to the eardrums.

Kaitou's destination was not the enormous Youyougi Kouen, but a smaller park, empty at this hour apart from them and the carolers that seemed hellbent on stalking them.

"Giving me a tour of the city so I'll appreciate what I might be destroying?"

Kaitou glanced at the sky, now curdled to a tarnished silver. "It keeps wanting to snow."

Another snowflake danced in the light of the street lamps. Hiei reached for it, but the wind again snatched it away.

Snow. Yukina's element. Of course it would be; Yukina was a Kourime, an Ice Maiden, native to a floating island of ice and snow in the Makai. Now that Hiei's sister had abandoned her world in favor of the human one, she spent at least part of the year among the snows of Hokkaidou.

Kaitou, on the other hand, was shivering. "C-can't b-believe you're not a popsicle yet," he stuttered.

"Never." Thanks in part to his pyro father, Hiei was resistant to either extreme in temperature, and refused to allow mere weather to conquer him. "I can handle heat or cold." Then the wind carried a cacophony of singing past them, and he winced.

"But not, apparently, a bunch of caterwauling kids."

"D-flat above middle C. F-sharp below. Those notes aren't even in the original tune." Hiei knew his own powers, and knew what damage he could wreak, even sane and in control. Would he realize he was going around the bend? Would he be able to get away fast enough from those he loved when it happened?

Damned movie.

They had left the park, but their musical entourage still trailed close behind. Kaitou sighed. "Probably just came from their tenth viewing of _Tainted Blood._"

"It's like they're giving me an excuse to go berserk."

But the kids at last veered off. With a sigh of relief, Hiei paused to let them get far out of range.

When Kaitou urged him into motion again, Hiei explained as they walked: Old Dragon had almost succeeded in killing him. Hiei could only guess at what his father had once been, but at the time of their encounter, Old Dragon had dwindled to decadence, hiding in crumbled buildings with a band of third-rate thugs, striking from the shadows at women and children.

"But he was strong enough." Kaitou gave him a sidelong glance. "Do you _want_ to be like him?"

Hiei drew a breath that caught in his throat. "Hell no."

"And all because of a stupid movie?"

"No." With a flash of irritation, Hiei said, "The movie was just a pivot point. Because tainted blood was already in me. Before I knew who my father was, when you'd still be in diapers, I was killing. For fun."

"But not any more."

"Who's to say I might not do it again? The thing is-he's Yukina's father too."

Kaitou considered this a moment. "Seems to me," he began, "there's a lot of ice and very little fire in Yukina-san."

Was Kaitou right? Hiei could not perform ice attacks; Yukina had no fire in her arsenal.

"Maybe there's a cure," Kaitou continued.

"You mean a not-crazy pill?"

"Something."

"Those who work for Dragons," Hiei intoned, "don't talk. Those who do, die."

"I get it. Nobody's talking. Come on." Kaitou made a right turn onto a street scattered with residential buildings.

"Where are we headed-Honshu?"

"Almost."

Hiei had read Kaitou's early work-the literary criticisms and philosophical essays that made him a published author at age 16. There were scalpel-sharp insights in some of them, but also a desperate form of pretension.

Kaitou's new books, written under a pen name, were different. Best-sellers, which he dubbed the equivalent of monster movies in print. They contained few fifty-cent words, but many heroes.

Kaitou's characters did not think themselves heroes. They were ordinary, unassuming men, women, even children, who battled ghosts, monsters, and demons-the polar opposite of that nihilistic movie.

Some of Kaitou's material came from the Shadow Wars, from what he or Hiei had experienced, though re-written, embellished and well-disguised. Other material sprang straight from a vivid imagination, kindled in part by jittery nerves.

_Is that what's happening to me now?_ Hiei wondered. _A bad case of the what-ifs, as though Kaitou's personality is catching?_

An empty paper bag scudded along his path, and he jumped.

But then he realized where they were heading. A pall settled over him, part dread, part stupid movie. He thought of turning back, but Kaitou's longer strides had put him well ahead, and Hiei hurried to catch up.

Kaitou mused, "Your 'problem' might prove good material for a later book."

Hiei said a bad word. Kaitou took it with equanimity.

"Don't worry," Kaitou cheerfully assured him. "I won't identify you by name. Won't even publish your street address."

"You're too kind."

"I don't just mean glancing at a search engine," Kaitou continued. "I mean boots on the ground."

"I already told you those who talk Dragon get dead fast. Wouldn't want one of them to be you."

"Book research. Ancient tomes in dusty archives. The worst that could happen is a paper cut."

"Those can be nasty."

They turned onto another residential street. Hiei knew it well: a long meandering road ending in a cul-de-sac.

This was an old neighborhood, with dwellings that had been custom-built in a prosperous age, and were now considered white elephants. Instead of Christmas decorations, piles of debris and battered garbage cans dotted the street.

Yet there were still houses with lights in the windows. The irrepressible Kawasaki sisters lived here, too, and that counted for something.

Hiei tossed Kaitou a questioning look. "Derelict's Row?"

That was not the official name, and it was not a compliment. The neighborhood was called Rokurokubi Block, originally named Sakura Heights, until all its cherry trees died.

After that, it had been re-named for a species of female youkai who appear human by day. At night, Rokurokubi are able to stretch their necks to outlandish, serpentine lengths. Some dote on stalking and frightening, humans. Others do not realize their origin, and often take human mates.

_Deceptive_, Hiei thought, _like me. Carrying tainted blood._

No humans walked these streets. But the occasional jaki, those small messenger youkai, dared to root through garbage. If anyone happens to glimpse a jaki from the corner of an eye, he chalks it up to a cat or a squirrel or an alcohol-fueled mirage.

One cat-looking jaki sat up on the rim of a trash can, regarding them suspiciously from orange eyes the size of Christmas tree lights. As they drew near, it leapt off the can, then darted away on its hind legs, like a lemur.

They stopped before a house, its windows boarded up.

_I know this place._

Under anemic streetlights, the building looked blue, a sick parody of a Victorian manor, with rooster weathervane and a half-dozen angular gables thrusting up like fungi from the main roof.

The stone wall surrounding the property was cracked, and even in winter, weeds had conquered the walkway.

Tonight was just full of surprises. Hiei looked up at Kaitou. "Yojigen Mansion?"

Kaitou spoke. "Thinking of buying it."

"So you're after inspiration not only in the form of a half-dragon about to go nuts, but a haunted mansion. Too bad those monster novels aren't working out."

"To the contrary."

"You're repeating yourself."

A hint of smugness laced Kaitou's voice. "My last book did well enough for me to pay cash for this house if I wanted."

"And here I was going to float you a loan so you wouldn't have to crash on Mom's sofa."

"My parents sacrificed a lot for me to get where I am. I wanted to repay them."

"Laudable. But you want this place because...?"

"Someone has to re-take this ground."

"You got guts, I'll give you that."

"And Michiko-san knows enough about books to run a home-based business."

"Fudo Michiko." Well. This would take Hiei's mind off his fears for a few moments. "That widow you fell for a couple years ago? The girl who's not your usual type of arm candy?"

"Got it in one."

The Fudo girl had a young son. She was cute in a bookish sort of way, and well able to handle an ego the size of Kaitou's, but had ditched Kaitou because he had kept secret his part in the Shadow Wars, even if it was meant for her protection.

"You mentioned she was talking to you again, but not that you progressed to the point of shopping for real estate."

The color that rose to Kaitou's cheeks might have been the effect of biting wind. "In the far future, of course."

"Big place for just two people," Hiei remarked.

"Two and a half."

"Right. The squirt, Shinta, barely counts as a half."

"It won't stay that way."

Hiei lifted an eyebrow. "Curiouser and curiouser."

"We talked about adopting kids."

"Maybe I'm not the crazy one here."

"This time, I haven't held anything back. Except your origins. Revealing that is not up to me."

"She'll find out one of these days."

"But that's your call."

"And your own secret identity?" said Hiei.

"She knows my pen name, too."

"You're doomed."

Down the street, someone turned on an outside light. The jaki's shadow flared up until it resembled a Rokurokubi, then a dragon. The light snapped off. The jaki was only a jaki.

"Buying your own orphanage." Hiei studied the formidable hulk. "Needs a lot of work."

"The inside is worse than the outside."

"Burn it. Sprinkle the ashes with Holy Water."

"We talked about taking the kids no one else wants. The ones with problems, or too old to be adopted."

The Ice Maidens to whom Hiei had been born called him _Imiko,_ Abominable Child. Even before his birth, they had determined the best way to protect their purity was to fling the problem child off their floating island. Though Hina, his mother, begged for Hiei to be spared, in the end, off the cliff he went.

"Older kids," Hiei said quickly. "Good thinking. Put them to work on renovations."

"I can count on you to see the practical side of things."

The sky was bruise-colored, but behind it, you could smell the purity of snow.

Kaitou studied Hiei from the corner of his long, thoughtful eyes. "There's ice in you, too."

Was there?

Hiei said, "Some place for a Christmas party. Urameshi and the idiot can bring their overalls. You and I can sit around drinking while they paint the walls."

"That's what I like about you. Overflowing with kindness."

_I'm supposed to be strong, inside and out. But that movie. I'm scared. Not for myself._

Born hating weakness, Hiei had sought only strength. He had met Urameshi Yuusuke, and changed a little. But a more profound change awaited.

The moment Hiei became a father, he was flooded with the understanding that some weak things deserved protection.

He had not yet voiced his worst fear. His twins, Michael and Cecilia, were one-quarter Dragon.

He shook the thought away. "Buying a house and adopting the unadoptable isn't some fish story you cooked up. Why am I here?"

Kaitou started back down the street again; Hiei followed until they stood before another house on Derelict Row. "Or I could buy-this one."

The house in question had a different air. Shabbily genteel. A true Victorian, and even with the boarded-up windows, you could see there would be an ample front room. "Each has strengths and drawbacks."

Hiei shrugged. "And?"

"This block is about to tip one way or the other." The balance of empty houses to those that were occupied had reached a critical point: decay or renewal. Signs of movement toward either condition were subtle and not easily read, and would take a psychic real estate genius to discern. "I want your advice on which way to go."

Hiei pondered for a bit. Then, "Can you afford both?"

A startled Kaitou opened his mouth, snapped it shut, nodded.

"Do it. You be the one to tip the scales. Live in the good house. Knock down the crazy house, purify the ground. Build something simple there for your business."

A frozen grin lit Kaitou's face. "It seems obvious once you said it."

"Naturally."

"So that's how the wind blows." As though conjured by Kaitou's speech, a gust of wind drew Hiei's attention to the sky.

A third snowflake zigged down, gemlike in the reflected light, and this time, Hiei caught it, and gazed at it.

A snowflake, unlike any other, unique as a fingerprint. It lay content on his palm for some time before it melted.

Fire. Ice.

If something as fragile as snow had resilience, maybe Hiei could overcome the worst in him and cultivate the best.

To hell with tainted blood. Hiei closed his hand.

"Let's head back," Kaitou pleaded.

"I'll hail a taxi," said Hiei. By the time they found one and turned for home, the snow was falling in earnest.

-30-


End file.
